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Fanfiction of IILuxuria's original characters and plot prompt. I do not own the following characters: Tiffany, Alex, Sylvia, Vincent, Dante, and Natalia. All other characters are my creation. Please feel free to review with criticisms, suggestions and requests.

1

Jailbird

The big city with its shining lights and skyscrapers, beautiful people and sophisticated conversation. That had been her dream. That had been why she'd moved from her crummy little hovel town and into Starling City. Anyone could be anything in Starling City, that's what they'd said. It didn't matter that she was no one and nothing before because in Starling City, dreams came true.

That was a load of horseshit.

And god, did she hope she didn't have to clean horse shit again. It paid well enough but it was disgusting work. The money in her pocket would keep her warm for a while longer and maybe in that time, something better would come up and she wouldn't have to go back to the stables again next week. She doubted that though.

Tiffany rubbed her arms against the fall chill as she wound her way back to the slums of Starling City in the night. As she wound through an alleyway, she heard a clatter in the distance. She paused briefly, trying to identify where the sound was coming from, but the noise had bounced around the alleys and seemed to come from everywhere. She picked up her pace, wanting to be through this shortcut and back into the lit streets. Someone yelled out in anger and Tiffany swallowed nervously, her brown eyes flitting around.

"Stop!" the words echoed in the alleyways. Tiffany picked up her pace again, jogging down the alleyway to escape the situation. Last thing she wanted was to run into anyone and become a witness. As she turned the corner, abruptly she was tackled. She groaned as she hit the hard cobblestones, dazed and acutely aware of someone holding her down.

She tried to speak, but her mouth was dry and cottony. Her lips moved, but only a hoarse cough escaped as she tried to focus her eyes. The light from a doorway obscured her attacker and moments later a police officer rounded the same corner, blowing his whistle. Tiffany had never been so relieved to see a man in blue, thanking her lucky stars that she would not be raped or killed that night. He pulled the attacker off of her and leaned over her, aiming his flashlight in her eyes. She turned away with a hiss of pain as the light intensified her headache. She couldn't understand what he was saying, but realized he was rifling through her pockets now. He held the wad of cash that she'd been paid over her head and seemed immensely proud of himself...

Tiffany wasn't sure what was going on, but it became harder and harder to focus until she had to give into the throbbing darkness.

When she awoke, she was in a dingy cell. There were bars on all sides of her and beyond the bars in front of her was a pudgy, tattooed man standing upside down on the ceiling.

Wait, he's not the one upside down, her mind chided. She rolled off the bench she was laying on and immediately had to hurry to the corner of the cell to puke. Her head killed and her throat was so parched that she could kill for water. Her vision was still a little blurry and dazed. She touched her head, feeling the tenderness where she'd hit the ground. That's gonna hurt for a while.

Someone banged a nightstick against the bars of her cell. She turned to see a nondescript police officer in his forties, overweight and obviously used to harassing the cellmates. His mouth stretched into a sneer under his uneven, bushy mustache, "Finally awake are you, thief?"

She had to swallow and lick her lips several times before she could get a word out, "Thief?"

"That's right. We caught you in the act, so don't bother denying it," he grinned maliciously.

"I didn't steal anything!" she insisted.

"Save it for the judge," he laughed, running his nightstick across the bars as he left.

"Hey!" she croaked out. "What about my phone call?! Don't I get to call someone?"

He ignored her, but that was probably just as well. Who was she going to call? She was alone and poor. She had no one in her hometown and she'd been too busy working to make friends in Starling. She sunk down against the bars, sitting next to her puke, feeling truly as pathetic as she looked. She lowered her pounding head onto her knees and closed her eyes against the world.

It was time for his monthly pro bono case. Alex sighed, knowing it was a PR necessity to balance out the indulgent ways he spent his free time, but he still didn't like it. It was such a drag to represent some stupid oaf that had gotten caught breaking and entering for a high or killed someone in a fit of senseless rage or jealousy without even thinking about how to get away with it. Sometimes it pained him to see what a disappointment the criminal element was when it came to mental acuity but at such times, he assuaged himself with the belief that the intelligent criminals just didn't get caught so he was looking at a biased sample in the prison cells before him.

He wandered past the cells, glancing through the files the police officer at the door had handed him for slipping him a fifty.

One worthless idiot after another, he sighed internally. Third peeping charge? Doesn't he know about the internet? Breaking and entering, boring. Robbery, how banal-.

He blinked down at the case file again and peered into the cell he'd just been about to walk past.

"It's a girl," he remarked out loud as though it wasn't the most obvious statement in the world. She drew her head up to look at him and a tingle of anticipation shot up Alex's spine. Those big, brown, confused eyes were just begging to be harassed. God, how he'd love to take that long braided hair and yank on it or wrap it around her throat like a collar…

But she was filthy and smelled. No matter how pretty she might've been underneath the smudged dirt, he wasn't at the prison cells to pick up a stray. He turned away from her shivering form to focus on the usual thuggish suspects.

That's when she sneezed.

He felt his resistance squirm lower into the pit of his stomach and a defeated sigh escaped his lips. He turned back to her and drawled in an almost bored fashion, "Hey you." He glanced at her file for her name and the details of her case, "Tiffany Valentine. Caught stealing eight hundred dollars, a diamond ring and a couple of other items. Oh, but they only recovered a hundred and fifty cash. Did you stash the rest of it?"

Tiffany looked at him blankly for a long moment before creeping closer to the bars. She squinted her eyes at him, "Do I know you?" It was an empty question. She was well aware that she knew no one who would visit her in jail - let alone someone dressed in a fine, tailored silk suit like that one.

"Since you were stealing petty cash, I'm guessing that you don't have enough money to pay for a decent lawyer. Well, guess what Ms. Valentine, today could be your lucky day," he grinned.

"What do you mean?" she asked him. Her head was still killing her and the throbbing made it really hard to think. What she was sure of though, was that the glint in this man's eyes was not to be trusted.

"I'll do you a favor. I'll represent you as your lawyer," Alex offered, almost too casually.

"I don't want any favors from you," she stated. Alarm bells were ringing in her head. She continued, "I'll wait for a legal aid lawyer."

Alex's eyes narrowed in amusement. He'd never had someone refuse his services. Even the most grizzled, muscular men became frightened putty once they were actually in the prison system, whether they let others see their fear or not. Imprisonment and loss of freedom made most people panicked beasts. He said slowly, "You're turning down one of the most accomplished lawyers in the city. I have had the highest rate of cases won for the last three years and counting. You sure you want to turn me away so easily?"

"If you're that good, you'll cost a fortune. I can't pay you," Tiffany gritted her teeth.

Alex watched that delicate jaw tightened and those slim hands wrap themselves around the bars subconsciously. His interest in her stirred and he found himself saying, "How about this. I'll cut my hourly rate by twenty percent for you."

"Why would you do that?" she frowned.

"Because your case is easy. It'll take no time at all. And trust me, you don't want to spend a couple days in here while the legal aid lawyer gets his head out of his ass long enough to figure out where you are. They won't keep you in this cell for much longer either. You'll be transferred to the prison until your case is cleared unless you can pay bail. I should let you know, there isn't a female only prison in the city."

Tiffany's eyes opened wide in panic. She'd be transferred to an actual prison? Even before it was proven she was guilty? And… she'd be locked in with men?

"I can't pay bail!" she cried.

"Don't worry. My practice will handle all the expenses up front," Alex slipped in smoothly.

"O-okay," she agreed quickly. The fear was making her head throb harder. "Okay, what do I have to do?"

"Just give me a minute to put together some paperwork," he smirked.

Tiffany had signed so many times that she'd lost track of what she was even signing. She was simply following Alex's command of "sign here... and here," as she put pen to paper.

The headache she had must be a concussion, she gathered. It hurt to think. She just wanted to curl up and surrender to the darkness. After signing what felt like every piece of paper in the building, she stumbled through the hallways at Alex's direction. As they stood in the open air in front of the police station, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Bus," she muttered. "Need to find a bus back home."

"You look like you're about to pass out. I'll take you home in my car. You can't very well pay me back for the bail I just paid if you're dead on a bus somewhere," he said matter-of-factly. "Ah, here's my car."

She didn't argue. She didn't have the strength to argue. She climbed into the back of the expensive car and prayed silently to herself, Don't puke on the leather. Don't puke on the leather. Because the last thing she needed was to add paying for the car to be cleaned on top of whatever she needed to pay this guy. The dim setting of the car blurred her surroundings even further than her concussion and before she knew it, the last vestiges of her strength escaped her and she surrendered to sleep.

He slid into the seat after her and after he was buckled turned to ask her where she lived. Finding her dead to the world, he sighed in annoyance. He could've looked up her address in her file, but then that would mean going inside whatever meager shack she lived in and hauling her in there himself. So instead, he muttered, "Let's go home. I'll get the maids to find her a room for the night."